As Close As It Gets
by Jessica237
Summary: "Detective Deeks is still our liaison officer with the LAPD...which makes him about as close to one of us as it gets." Hetty's words had stuck with Kensi, echoing in her head even after they knew he was safe and sound. KD, post 2x01.


**Title:** As Close As It Gets**  
>By:<strong> Jessica**  
>Pairing: <strong>Kensi/Deeks**  
>Rating:<strong> T**  
>Timeline:<strong> Post 2x01, Human Traffic.  
><strong>Summary: <strong>"He's still our liaison officer with the LAPD, which makes him about as close to being one of us as it gets." Hetty's words had stuck with Kensi, echoing in her head even long after they knew he was safe and sound.

**A/N: **This may very well be the second story I ever started writing for these two, and out of all my little story fragments, probably the one I was most reluctant to give up on. So, finally, after nearly a year it's managed to come together. Many, many, many thanks to the awesome **gf7** and **krazykitkat** for a million and one things, including being incredibly patient with the amount of worrying I've done over this, heh. :)

* * *

><p>The bartender knows him by name now. He's not entirely sure how he feels about that; Deeks may have to find a new haunt, because his entire purpose for coming here is for no one to recognize him. To forget for a few moments who he is and who he isn't; what he's done and what he's failed to do. Nameless is blameless, he reasons.<p>

But nameless he is not; nor is he blameless tonight. Deserved or not, he's taken the blame for this operation and placed it squarely upon his own shoulders. Never mind the good that came of it, the countless young girls saved in the downfall of the human trafficking ring; for the moment, Deeks can only feel the burden of the innocent life lost. And no matter who tries to tell him otherwise (not that anyone actually _has_), that's a burden that _does_ fall on his shoulders.

And that, he knows, will be something he carries for quite some time.

In the end, he can't help but feel that it was his own carelessness in part that led to Jess Traynor's death. Maybe Lazik _had_ known about his true allegiance from the beginning; perhaps the operation _was_ doomed before it ever even began. But that doesn't stop the photo on Lazik's cell from infiltrating his vision, no matter how much he chooses to numb his mind.

In the end it was undeniable – he'd made a careless mistake. It wasn't one that he'd been the first to make, nor would he be the last to make it. That, however, is no comfort at all to him. It makes no difference whether he accepts that or not, because it's not going to bring Traynor back.

A bitter scowl on his face, Deeks lifts his glass to his lips, quickly draining half of it, wincing just slightly at the burn in the back of his throat. That's nothing, though, compared to the stinging pain that seems to inhabit every muscle in his body – he'd only barely escaped the same fate as Traynor, after all.

Eyes squeezed shut, he mentally kicks himself – he should have _never_ gotten that close. To her, and to the case. Part of what makes him so skilled at his undercover work is his ability to separate himself, to not just take on the alias, but to _become_ that alias. When he's under, Marty Deeks doesn't exist.

It wasn't, however, Dale John Sully who had let himself get too close to Jess Traynor over the past four months of this slow, exhausting case. It wasn't Dale John Sully who had comforted her that night about two and a half months in, when the stress and the frustration and the agony of seeming defeat was looming over them both as the case seemed to stall; who had listened as she lowered her guard enough to recount the story from her past, tearfully revealing just why this case meant so very much to her, just why failure was utterly not an option. And it certainly wasn't Dale John Sully who had gotten himself caught on film while leaving her place early one morning, a possibility to which he'd never even given the slightest whisper of a thought.

No. That had all been one hundred percent Marty Deeks. Sully wouldn't have allowed _any_ of that to happen.

_What a surprise_, he muses bitterly. _Marty Deeks screwing things up again_. Clenching a fist atop the bar, he can do nothing but hear the words echo in his head, unsurprisingly in the voice of his father. It's been years since Deeks has seen the man, but his voice remains in his head just as clear and crisp as ever – usually, though, he's better at ignoring it.

It's really only on the nights like these that Deeks finds himself unable to shake it. Only on the nights like these, when his usual defense of humor and wit fails him and he's left with nothing but the darkest of his thoughts, the ones that suggest that maybe, just maybe, his father had been right all along.

After all, he certainly doesn't feel like much more than a failure tonight.

And the fact that the main objective of the case itself was achieved doesn't mean a damn thing to him.

The bar around him is almost eerily quiet, only a smattering of quiet conversation and the telltale clink of glass filtering occasionally through the silence. Despite this, Deeks feels more than hears the footsteps as they approach from behind; any other time, that might've set him on guard. Tonight, though, he can't muster up the energy to care. And besides, he knows who it is – really, there's only one person it could possibly be, and that's the same person who knows he's made a habit out of frequenting this bar.

And really, he's certain she's the only person who would bother to come after him anyway. He's certain she's the only one who would bother to care that much…and Deeks can't for the life of him figure out just why that is. He's just a cop, after all. Not an agent, and most likely won't ever be – he's sure the outcome of this assignment helped to set that in stone.

Not that he wants to become an agent. Sure, he'll admit to a certain sense of envy, from the technology they have to the fact that none of them are ever really alone when they go under on a case. It was exactly as he'd told them months ago – when he goes under, he's on his own. The back-up would be nice sometimes, he has to admit, but in the long run, it goes against everything Deeks has ever known.

He's never really had anybody watching his back and he's really not so sure that he could make that transition now. Doesn't really know that he could function as part of a team. And it's not that he's really opposed to it; it's just that he doesn't _know_ it. It's not something that's ever been offered to him before.

But Deeks is getting ahead of himself here – after all, it's _still_ not something that's been offered to him. So instead, he shifts back to the present moment as the footsteps falter, coming to a complete stop just behind him. Closing his eyes, he heaves out a sigh, his tone airy, mildly dismissive as he speaks. "We've gotta stop meeting like this, Hetty."

He'd been so sure, but the quiet chuckle that reaches his ears proves him wrong before the words even leave his visitor's lips. "Not Hetty."

_Kensi._

That's a surprise.

A million questions rush through his head, but physically he doesn't react. He doesn't turn to her; isn't quite sure that he could face her. During his first official case as their liaison officer, she'd made a few comments that obviously he wasn't supposed to hear. At the time, though, Deeks had taken those comments in stride – what she'd said was really no different than everything else lobbed at him over the years.

Now, though, he's quite certain he's proved her initial suspicions correct. "_The best they could do," _indeed. He sighs again, staring blankly at the wall beyond the bar. "Ah. My Fern."

Any other time, she would have protested. For now though, Kensi ignores it – not only the nickname, but also the random possessive pronoun he'd tucked onto the beginning. They both rile her nerves, but she knows her only instinctual response would likely put a swift kick into good use. And the last thing she wants is to kick him while he's so clearly down, even if he's proven himself quite annoying in the short time she's known him.

Instead, she doesn't wait for an invitation that's not coming and simply slides onto the barstool next to him, nodding toward the bartender as he glances her way. "Just a soda water," she says simply. After all, she's not here to drink tonight.

At that, Deeks can't help but scoff, eyeing the remaining liquid in his own glass before motioning for a refill. "Who comes to a bar and orders soda water?" he asks after a moment, once their glasses are both filled and the bartender has again drifted away.

Kensi smirks. "There's a lot about me that would probably surprise you," she says simply, if not a bit mysteriously.

A thousand retorts gather on the tip of his tongue, but Deeks remains silent. He simply doesn't have the energy or even the will to utilize his usual defense – humor. And well, that's one thing – what's more surprising than that though is the fact that, at this moment, he can't bring himself to care that he's allowing her to see him like this.

On some level, though, he supposes it doesn't really matter, not after the side of him she saw that afternoon. Marty Deeks doesn't have a quick temper; he's always kind of prided himself on being able to roll with the punches, letting his buttons be pushed without reacting to it. Of course, he's played aliases with short fuses, but those were just that – _aliases_. Aside from those, well, Deeks can count the number of times he's truly lost control of his anger on one hand and still have fingers left over. And each time, it'd been something that'd been building up inside him for quite some time.

Beside him, Kensi shifts slightly in her seat, her teeth tugging thoughtfully at her lip. This isn't exactly how she'd imagined this going; not that she's really sure how it was supposed to go at all, but this dark silence…it's something that she finds herself completely unprepared for. This isn't the Deeks she knows, not at all – typically, it's impossible to make him _stop_ talking; at least, that's the impression she's gotten from the short amount of time she's worked with him. The Deeks she knows _refuses_ to keep his mouth shut, and Kensi's forced to admit (silently, of course) that she doesn't quite know what to do with the quiet, solemn man at her side. It's a bit of an awkward position she's in, really, and as the moments drag on she finds herself grasping for anything to fill the silence with. "So…you, uh, come here often?"

It's a pathetic cliché of an attempt and Kensi knows it. She cringes herself at the forced lightness in her voice, lightness that can feel nothing but out of place in the current setting. And it's quite obvious that Deeks picks up on it too, but rather than call her out on it, he simply gives a wry chuckle and allows her to lead. "Apparently only when I get my ass kicked," he replies quietly, slowly drawing a fingertip along the rim of his glass.

Kensi leans forward, resting her elbows on the bar as she fixes him with a thoughtful gaze. "Looked to me like you did a fair bit of the ass-kicking too," she remarks quietly.

His reply to that is immediate. Immediate, and undeniably bitter. "Not as much as I would've liked to do."

"Yeah, I got that impression."

To that, Deeks is silent, his gaze resolutely forward. Kensi shifts slightly, angling herself toward him a little more. Her eyes drift over him, quietly taking in the scrapes and bruises that dot his skin, scrapes and bruises that Kensi knows only just graze the full extent of his injuries. She didn't see what happened in the warehouse between him and Lazik, but from what she _can _see, and the gingerness in his posture, it's clear that he's in a great deal of pain.

She doesn't know him too well, Kensi reminds herself again. But if he's anything at all like her (and she's mildly certain that he is, loathe though she may be to admit it), then it's likely not the physical that's paining him. If it were her, she knows her pride would be wounded. Her abilities would have been called into question and, perhaps beyond all else, she'd be forced to endure the agony of defeat. Of failure.

And that would sting more to her than any physical injury ever would.

Her eyes continue their journey over him before settling at his hands atop the bar. Deep purple bruises are just beginning to blossom at his knuckles, evidence of the force behind his fists as he hurled his anger directly at Frank Scarli.

She can't blame him; thinks in fact that if it'd been her, she'd likely do the same.

Still, she'd be lying if she tried to say she hadn't been taken aback at the time.

She'd be lying if she tried to say that side of Deeks hadn't frightened her just a bit.

She swallows hard, again finding the silence almost oppressive. Lifting her eyes, she takes a long look at his face, taking in from the side slightly glazed-over blue eyes that refuse to look anywhere but straight ahead. "You're okay."

It's half a question, half a statement – to be honest, Kensi's really not even sure herself. It's all she can muster, though – she simply doesn't know _what_ to say. And, for the first time since she'd decided to follow him, she wonders just what exactly she's doing there.

He answers before she can answer her own internal wonderings, his voice quiet but rough. "Depends on your definition of okay." He pauses, lifting his glass to his lips. "I guess I've seen better days…but I've seen worse too."

Kensi frowns. "I don't know if I want to know what worse looks like."

Deeks opens his mouth, perhaps to verbalize exactly just what worse looks like for him (because if he's honest, this is almost nothing, really…physically, at least), but thinks better of it and simply shrugs instead, struggling not to wince at the sudden bolt of pain that shoots through his back. "I'm fine. This…it's nothing."

Sighing, Kensi shakes her head – after all, that's a line she may as well have the patent on. Certainly knows it well enough to know just how much of a lie it truly is. "Clearly…"

He doesn't acknowledge that. He does, however, turn toward her for the first time – it's barely a slight twist of his neck, but it's enough that suddenly Kensi finds herself looking straight into his crystal blue eyes. She thinks for a brief second (before she shoves that thought roughly away) that she's never seen anything quite that shade of blue before.

And actually, it unnerves her just a bit. It's almost as if he's looking straight through her, seeing right into her mind and her soul and reading every single bit of the concern and the apprehension that she's currently having so much difficulty putting into words because putting _those_ into words isn't something that Kensi does. It's not something she does because acknowledging their very presence isn't something she does. But, strong-willed as ever, she holds his gaze, trying to read his eyes as she's certain he's reading hers, but there's a wall there that she simply cannot breach.

In the end, it's Kensi who finally breaks that connection anyway, preoccupying herself with a slow sip of her – admittedly dreadful – soda water before attempting the tactic of conversation once again. "I guess this was the big undercover assignment you left me for four months ago, huh?"

The corners of his lips quirk just a tiny bit – it's almost nothing, but Kensi's trained eyes catch it. It's the first hint – however miniscule – of the Deeks she knows, and that's enough to ease her worry just a bit. Not that she'll admit to that, of course – that would require admitting to worrying about him in the first place…and not even the smug grin she knows she'd likely get from him is enough to push her _that_ far. "Listen to you, Fern," he quips, though his tone fails to convey the lightheartedness implied by his teasing words themselves. "You make it sound like you _weren't_ actively looking for reasons to make Hetty get rid of me."

"Not get rid of you," Kensi replies lightly. "Maybe reasons to make sure you're always partnered with Sam…"

He knows she's teasing in an effort to lighten his mood. But there's just enough stubbornness and enough exhaustion and enough guilt swirling within him that he simply can't allow her to lift him. For the moment, the darkness remains far too heavy upon his soul. "I'd wager a guess to say I'm not going to be partnering with anyone," he says, finally verbalizing one of the many thoughts that have been plaguing him for hours.

It takes a moment for Kensi to interpret what he means. When she does, she furrows her brow thoughtfully, wondering if perhaps he knows something she doesn't. "Did Hetty say something?"

Deeks gives a halfhearted shrug. "She will." She gave him a chance; he not only turned his back on that for one more LAPD operation, but then managed to screw that one up. No reason for her to offer him a second chance, right? "Only a matter of time, I'm guessing."

Kensi snorts. "Yeah, uh, in case you haven't discovered this yet, Hetty doesn't work like that. If you were gone, well, let's just say you wouldn't be sitting here _wondering_ if you were gone." She looks at him, taking in the skepticism in his features. "Trust me. You'd _know_. I know there's a _lot_ of wondering when it comes to Hetty, but there's no question that she expects you there with the rest of us tomorrow morning."

"Tomorrow?" Deeks winces. "I'm injured."

"Yeah, well, Hetty's of the mindset that if you can sit at a bar and wallow, then you can sit at your desk and do paperwork." She grins briefly. "There's always tons of that." Her grin falters when he fails to react to her gentle teasing. "Look. When you went off the radar, Hetty made finding you our top priority, even when Callen pointed out that there was no military angle to any of this. She told us that you were 'as close to being one of us as it gets.' So, no, she's _not_ going to send you back to LAPD after putting all that effort into finding you alive – in fact, I think she'd be quite offended if you even suggested that." She pauses for a beat. "I _know_ you don't want to offend Hetty."

His lips twitch slightly. It's a long, thoughtful moment before he speaks again, saying the words he's been forced to listen to over and over again in his head – in fact, he's almost surprised when they reach his ears now in his own voice, rather than the gruff, clearly disgusted voice of his father. "But I – I screwed up."

The urge to roll her eyes is ridiculously strong here – it seems he's just as stubborn as she is. Just as unable to see the other side when one argument is already so firmly planted in his head. "Look, Deeks, if Hetty got rid of all of us the first time we ever made a mistake…"

Deeks interjects quickly. "You're saying _you_ make mistakes?"

"No." She smiles. "Callen, for example. He…" Kensi pauses, biting at her lip as she tries to assemble the right words in her head. "He likes to…defy the partner model; let's just say that. It's gotten him into more than a few sticky situations. Hetty – _and_ Sam – he frustrates them both sometimes. But that doesn't mean he's…it doesn't mean he's worth giving up on." This is really turning out more difficult than Kensi had expected. She's never seen this side of Deeks; to be honest, she would have never guessed this side of him existed.

He gives a weak shrug of his shoulders. "I didn't just make _any_ mistake, though," he persists quietly, staring down at his drink. "And it's not something I can just…let go. I made the one mistake I _knew_ better than to make. I – I got too close."

He'd been able to think the words effortlessly, so Deeks finds himself surprised at just how difficult it is to actually verbalize them. Hearing them hits so much harder than merely thinking them. And it's at this point that his expression, his carefully practiced blank slate, begins to falter. The exhaustion, as well as the emotion lurking just behind it, are simply becoming too much – he knows he won't have the strength to keep this up for much longer.

Kensi leans closer, her own heart pounding in her ears as her concern for him grows. Suddenly, she recognizes this. Recognizes it all too clearly and the realization tugs dearly at her heart.

The facts, well, they're simply the facts. Deeks couldn't have done _anything_ to change the outcome. He wasn't the one who had placed the bomb in Traynor's car; he wasn't the one who'd detonated it. And he hadn't been there – hell, hadn't even been _conscious_ at the time; there was _literally_ nothing he could have done to save her.

And yet, he's taken the burden for it on his own shoulders. The crushing sense of guilt is misplaced, but it's guilt nonetheless and Kensi can't fight back the chill that works its way down her spine as she realizes just how close to home that hits. It's accompanied by a pang of sadness, one she's quite familiar with at this point in her life. She closes her eyes for a moment, suddenly overcome by the rush of memories that she hasn't quite figured out how to hold back yet – at this point, she's not sure she'll ever be able to hold them back though. They're still just too strong, even after all these years…

It's so different, and yet, still so similar.

There was nothing Deeks could have done. Kensi had done everything _she_ could have done.

He's convinced he should have known better. She'd been convinced she should have tried harder.

He had _nothing_ to do with Traynor's death…but he feels as if the blood might as well be on his hands. He could not have made things turn out differently.

_She_ could not have made things turn out differently.

_Jack_…

_So _very similar…

She doesn't remember just when she finally began to believe that she'd done all she could for him. All she knows is that it took some time; for years, she was haunted by the nightmares of him blaming her for not trying hard enough, for not knowing how to be what he'd needed when he'd come home to her, for simply not being enough for him.

And it was _agonizing_.

It was pain and heartbreak and guilt that she would _never_ wish upon anyone else. _Never_.

There's a part of her that wants to argue that it's a bit different – she'd been engaged to Jack when he'd walked out on her without a word; Traynor had merely been Deeks' partner for this operation, despite the fact that they had obviously become involved. But at the heart of the matter, it remains the same – the guilt that rests upon his shoulders (and had rested upon her shoulders) is entirely undeserved.

Drawing in a deep breath, Kensi forces the lingering memories away and pulling herself back into the present moment. She's not the one hurting – he is. "You _do_ know that you didn't get Traynor killed, right?" she asks softly. "She was killed because Scarli was playing for the other side. He was the one in business with Ortega the whole time, and if Lazik hadn't killed her, he would have done it himself – he told you that _directly_, Deeks." Again she pauses, allowing the weight of her words to settle in. "He would have killed you too and you know that."

Deeks shrugs. "She was still my partner," he murmurs. "And I still failed to have her back."

"Deeks…" She trails off, fidgeting slightly beside him before clasping her hands together in an effort to still them. Briefly, _just_ briefly, she toys with the idea of truly sympathizing with him by sharing that heartache from her own not-so-recent yet not-so-distant past. In the end, though, that kind of revelation is still too much for her. It might help him to hear it, but it _still _ hurts and the fact remains that this man sitting beside her is still someone she barely knows. Hell, Callen and Sam don't even know about Jack (she's ninety-nine point nine percent certain they don't, anyway, and if she's wrong, she might kill whoever told them) and they're arguably the two people on the planet who know the absolute most about her…except, of course, for Jack, back in the day, and Hetty, who knows every little secret about every member of their team, Kensi's sure.

Swallowing hard, Kensi finally shoves the rest of the memories and the emotions away, mentally berating herself for letting herself get caught off-guard by them. Instead, she turns her attention completely back to the man at her side, summoning up a stern yet soft voice for words he desperately needs to hear, lest he carry this on his shoulders forever. "You can't take that all on you," she says. "You _can't, _Deeks."

Pursing his lips, Deeks aimlessly lifts his glass, slowly swirling the liquid within. When he finally replies, his voice is quiet, solemn. "It's what I'm good at."

She knows absolutely nothing about his background; until today, Marty Deeks to her was the generally cheerful, somewhat loud, undeniably witty undercover cop who had pissed off more than his fair share of LAPD comrades but was confident enough to let all of that just bounce right off of him and keep doing what he does. Seeing him like this tonight, unable to shake the shadows currently plaguing him…it piques her curiosity as to where this man came from; makes her think that maybe, just maybe, the shields he puts up ninety-nine percent of the time are just as strong and protective and concealing as her own shields have to be.

It saddens her, really, because she knows exactly everything that she's had to live through herself in order to build up those shields. Cautiously, she latches onto his self-deprecating admission, remembering how close to gushing Jess Traynor had been while she talked about Deeks. "You know, I talked to her – Callen, Sam, and I did," she begins. Deeks gaze darts to her for but a moment before his eyes are resolutely forward again. "She didn't have anything bad to say about you at all – the list of things she said you were good at…_that_ wasn't on there at all." Kensi pauses, drawing in a breath. "She was…she actually went on and on about how good you were at what you do. And…"

Trailing off, she bites her lip, pondering for a moment her next words; she knows he could call her out on having no way of knowing this. "I know she wouldn't have blamed you for what happened. It was…it was clear that she cared about you."

The companion statement goes unspoken. _And you cared about her._

Deeks sighs then, and though suddenly he finds himself rather put off by the remaining liquid in his glass, he lifts it to his lips and downs it anyway, relishing the burn in the back of his throat. "Yeah, well, none of that matters now, does it."

It's a statement, not a question, and before Kensi can even begin to decide what to do with it, he glances her way, holding her gaze just briefly before turning away again. "What are you doing here, Kensi?" he asks directly.

She shrugs, tapping her fingers gently against her own glass. "I like the soda water."

Deeks snorts; not only is it a terrible lie, but it's also a dreadful attempt at humor, and one that he doesn't further acknowledge. "Hetty sent you, didn't she?"

Kensi shakes her head. "She didn't." For a moment she's quiet, just watching him. "I'm here because I thought you might…maybe you might want someone to talk to. Somebody to listen."

"Would _you_?"

She supposes he's got a point there. "Touché," she replies quietly, though she doesn't plan to simply let it go. "Doesn't mean Callen and Sam have always left me alone when I wanted to be left alone, though. That's what we do…as a team. Look out for each other."

His reply to that is simple, a bit chilly, and exactly the response that would have come from Kensi's lips if the roles were reversed. "I don't need anybody looking out for me." _Never had it before; why now?_

It hits her then just how much like the rest of them he really is. Callen's always been a loner, depending on himself to get everything he needs, always wary of letting others in. Kensi has her own issues with trust and commitment; no need to get close if people are just always going to leave when things get tough. Sam is arguably better than both of them at all of that; there are days Kensi's certain that he's the one who holds their team of lonely people together. Deeks…well, he'll fit right in. And maybe that's Hetty's intent after all. "You…really don't have any concept of what team means, do you?" she questions softly.

"Never really been part of one."

Callen was the same before NCIS, she's heard. Kensi's grown to be the same way. So she can't really explain just why Deeks' admission saddens her as much as it does. "Well, you are now…whether you like it or not," she adds a bit playfully. She's encouraged when his lips twitch in response. "I thought you would have figured that out when we all had your back earlier."

She knows she doesn't have to say more than that. Deeks might have ruffled their feathers in the beginning, but that doesn't make him any less of a teammate. They _all _have their moments, after all. Kensi, Sam, and Callen had rallied around him without a second thought, backing him up as he'd gotten the necessary confession from Scarli, and then wordlessly allowing him the release of pent-up fury he'd desperately needed. If that's not proof that they consider him one of them now, Kensi's not sure what it will take. She sighs softly before making the confession she'd been hoping to avoid making directly, because she knows it's likely something she would take offense to. "I wanted to make sure you were okay."

He scoffs. "You don't even _like_ me."

The harsh bite to his words has Kensi flinching. "I never said that, Deeks." He just gives a half-shrug in response, and it's something about that, his complete refusal to listen to her, his refusal to even _hear_ her that puts her on edge. She exhales deeply, turning to face him fully before trying a different approach. "I know I don't like _this side_ of you. I don't like this guilt that you seem so hell-bent on carrying, and I sure don't like this whole…this whole self-pity thing you've got going on, so you know what? It stops now, Deeks. It stops now." She won't admit it aloud, but it's killing her to watch him sit here and wallow, blaming himself for something he had no control over. "So you had an op go sour," she says, hoping to draw his thoughts back to the bigger picture rather than let him continue to ponder the what-ifs about Traynor. "We've all been there. It comes with the territory – every op is not going to go perfectly every single time."

It's all Deeks can do not to roll his eyes. He still may not know Kensi very well, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a clue of who he's talking to, and there is _nothing_ in the limited information he has about Kensi Blye that even _suggests_ that's something she'd be okay with. He chances a glance to the woman at his side, but even without that he's pretty damn certain that she wouldn't just shrug a failure off and unaffectedly move on to the next case.

And really, he's a little afraid he'd have a bullet in him before he could even suggesting the very same thing she'd just said to him. Especially since he's really not sure Kensi knows what failure even feels like.

He turns toward her, fully taking her in for the first time. If there's one thing he's certain of, it's that he's never met another woman as confident as Kensi Blye is. It's almost a scary kind of confidence…but at the same time, it's a sexy kind of confidence – he's thought that since the very first time he actually met her as Kensi.

But there's something else that kind of confidence speaks of too, though. It's not simply a confidence in her abilities and in who she is; it's a confidence in being able to get what she wants when she wants, whether that's professional or personal. He wonders, briefly, just how many people have ever managed to tell her no and get away with it.

It also makes him wonder just how much experience she actually has. She's young, obviously younger than Callen and Sam, and Deeks finds himself wondering just what exactly her story is. What brought her to NCIS? Did Hetty Lange take an odd sort of interest in her from afar just as she'd seemed to do with him? And if so, just what exactly had landed her on Hetty's radar?

Of course, that question reminds him that he's not really sure how he himself ended up on Hetty's radar…but then again, he's not entirely convinced that that wasn't a mistake on Hetty's part. He shakes that thought away, concentrating on his companion entirely. There's something that he can't quite put his finger on, not just yet, anyway.

The intensity of his gaze again unnerves her, and Kensi's unable to entirely keep from squirming. She disguises it though as a mere shifting in her seat, glancing away briefly before returning her eyes to his. "What?"

Deeks regards her carefully for a moment longer, almost as if contemplating whether to ask the question suddenly on his mind, the question sparked in him by that unyielding confidence of hers. In the end, he decides to go for it. "You ever had your cover blown?"

"Me?" The question catches her slightly off-guard, and Kensi can't completely disguise that. She averts her eyes then, contemplatively gazing at the wall behind the bar. Her silence is a bit too long for her answer to be the absolute truth. "No."

"Never?"

She looks back at him and lifts a brow. "Find it hard to believe that I'm that good?"

Deeks smirks at her playful words. "Actually, yeah. I do." She opens her mouth to protest, but he easily cuts her off. "I had the unfortunate privilege of watching you pretend to be Zuna's girlfriend, remember? And let's just say you were, uh, more than just a little transparent."

"I was not," Kensi protests.

"Please," Deeks continues. "Only thing that stopped me from tearing your cover all to pieces was Callen showing up with that cab. At least he seems to have a handle on the quick thinking."

Kensi can't help it; she straightens her spine, her posture defensive. "_I_ can think fast. I didn't _need_ Callen to swoop in and save me."

"Uh-huh. So you could have kept it up even if he hadn't shown up at the door?" He watches her, the challenge clear in his blue eyes. "I didn't believe your story about being Zuna's girlfriend. I didn't believe your spiel about a drug deal. Where were you going to take that next, huh?"

He would have missed it if he hadn't been so clued into her confidence already, but for the first time, it falters just slightly. She doesn't reply, and that, more than any actual reply, sends Deeks' mind racing.

She _is_ ridiculously good at her job; he would never question that. She's strong, fearless, has killer aim with any number of different kinds of guns, can easily take down a suspect twice her size without a second thought. But he can't help but wonder…perhaps there's a reason why she's so confident about never having her cover blown, yet from what Deeks himself has seen, she seems to struggle with being someone else, at least when put on the spot.

She'd played the role of Fern convincingly…but then again, it wasn't as if her life had been on the line then, at least, not in the club itself. She'd only had to convince a young socialite, not anyone who would think to look past who she said she was. When the time had come for _that_, it hadn't worked (though, granted, she'd actually had her cover blown _for_ her) and Kensi had almost been killed.

He wonders if she's ever been face to face with a criminal who turned out to be smarter than she was; wonders if she's ever had anyone stand mere inches away from her and breathe her name – not her cover name, but _her_ name. _Special Agent Kensi Blye, NCIS._

It'd happened to him, and he's certain it's only years of deep assignments, years of dangerous experience that kept him from crumbling on the spot.

And that's when it clicks for him. Suddenly, all the pieces fall into place – her over-abundance of confidence, the seeming naivety in her _so you had an op go sour; it comes with the territory,_ plus that something in her gorgeous eyes that he's been trying to place for several long moments, but never really figuring out just what it's telling him until now.

And when he finally speaks, it's definitely not a question. "You've never done deep cover before."

She quickly furrows her brow, and that's all Deeks needs. That right there is a dead giveaway, and he nods slightly. "That's what I thought," he concludes quietly. There's no triumph in the correctness of his assumption, though. Under any other circumstance, there'd likely be an excess of that – he doesn't know her well, but Deeks knows enough to know that discovering any tiny secret of Kensi's is certainly a rather grand feat. And coupled with the knowledge that he has experience that she doesn't…yeah, any other time, he'd likely be hard-pressed not to rib her.

And he absolutely _does_ have experience that she lacks…but it's no experience he'd ever wish upon the woman at his side.

He seems to have caught her off-guard with his declaration, as she neither agrees nor denies it for a long moment. When finally she does speak, it's as if she's chosen her words very carefully so as to show neither desire nor reluctance. "The opportunity has never come up."

Deeks studies her for a moment, letting her words echo in his ears. "Let's say the opportunity came up tomorrow. You go in to work, expecting just another normal day. But the case that you happen to pull that day…it's one that goes a little deeper than what you think at first, and it's one that you guys end up following for weeks. Kind of passively, because at the time there's not much more you can do than just watch. But at some point, all the pieces come together," he says, using the same words he'd used so flippantly months before to describe his own upcoming op. If only he'd known then…

That's part of the point he wants to make to her, the volatility of it all, but for the moment, he shakes it away, knowing he'll come back to it eventually. "You don't have time to think about it – not once everything falls into place. Me, I got what, about eight hours' notice before I had to go under? Sometimes it's shorter, sometimes it's longer." He pauses, offering a bit of a grim smile. "I'll be nice to you and say you get forty-eight hours to prepare for your first deep cover assignment. You don't know anything other than who you're supposed to be, and what you're supposed to be doing. You don't know how long you'll be under – could be weeks, could be months. You don't know what you're going into; sure, you know enough to get in, but you don't know who might turn on you in an instant, you don't know if they've got informants who know who you actually are…there are a lot of unknowns in the equation. It's a challenge. You have to be incredibly aware of everything going on around you, but at the same time, you can't slip out of character. Not even once."

The challenge flits through his eyes before his next words fill the air. "Not everyone can do it."

Try as she might, Kensi can't help but take that bait. "I _told_ you I haven't been given the chance," she says, the defensiveness in her voice unmistakable. She can't help it – it's just unacceptable that anyone, especially the people she works with, might think she's incapable of anything.

Deeks simply takes it in stride. "I'm just saying – some people are better at shorter covers. Going under deep, though…" he pauses, glancing away momentarily. "It's like nothing else. There's no greater rush, but at the same time, there's nothing more _exhausting_. It takes everything you have, and then some. It's…it's hard to understand until you've been there. Until you've done it."

By that, Deeks really only means that it's difficult for him to explain it, but Kensi takes it as a hidden challenge anyway. "Try me."

He flicks his tongue over his lips, thinking for a moment. This, in fact, is the challenge – the only way he can figure to explain what it's like to go in deep is by alluding to some of Kensi's much shorter covers, which he's already pointed out are nothing like a much deeper cover. But really, in the end that's all he has. "Think about Tracey," he begins, recalling the first time he'd ever met Kensi. "Think about playing that very same character for weeks at a time. Think about the moment that I walked in the door and found you there looking through Zuna's computer. If I hadn't been an undercover cop, well…" He frowns. "You might not be here now."

"I could have taken you."

"Maybe." He smirks. "The point is, it might _not_ have been me. It could have been anyone else – good, bad, or neutral. Now, think about the stories you had to make up right there on the spot in order to keep me from blowing your cover. The drug deal, the pictures…think about how far you might have gone to coerce me to reveal Zuna's supplier to you. And what if I'd accepted?" He waits, allowing her mind to process. "When you go in deep, you have a cover; you have a story to stick to, and that's the easy part. Sometimes, though, that story gets holes poked into it pretty damn fast, and you have to be just as quick on your own feet to keep yourself alive."

Kensi narrows her eyes at him, not quite appreciating what he's implying. "The only reason _you_ poked holes in my story was because you were undercover too. You _knew_ what to look for."

"But you've got to assume that _everybody_ knows what to look for," he replies simply. "You never want to assume that you're in the clear. Maybe I would have fallen for it if I wasn't a cop; maybe not. Point is, you don't know."

Even Kensi has to admit that he's got a point there – not aloud though, of course. He continues, his next direction putting a grimace on her face. "Think about Fern. Your favorite, right?" He grins slightly. "Not that that would matter anyway, because you don't get to pick your cover story. You know that, but it's a lot different when you have a story to stick to for a few hours as opposed to a few months. Someone else puts that story together for you, and you…well, you have to go with it. Like it or not. Even if it's the absolute _worst_ alias you've ever had to take on. Even if it's an alias who has _nothing_ in common with who you are. An alias that, right from the very beginning, you completely _hate._ You might think it's nothing, that it's just playing a part, right?" It's a rhetorical question, and Deeks merely shakes his head and continues. "But it's more than that. There's no _acting_ – you have to actually _be_ that alias. No excuses. No compromises." He fixes his blue eyes upon her, his gaze so penetrating that it takes everything Kensi has not to squirm. "You have to leave _everything_ behind. Could you do that for weeks, maybe months at a time?"

"Of course I could."

She answers much too quickly, much too confidently, and Deeks can't help but lift a brow. "You could abandon everything that makes you Kensi Blye, just like that? You could…in essence, completely lose yourself to become someone else, as if that someone else _was_ you? You could stop _Kensi_ from lashing out when you know very well that your alias would just back down from a fight?"

Indignance flashes through her eyes, but it's clear that while she doesn't appreciate his implications that she couldn't, he's raised a bit of unwelcome doubt within her. "_You_ obviously do it. How hard could it be?"

It's an obvious barb but Deeks merely shrugs it off. "It's harder than you think." With that, he pauses, turning his eyes back to his empty glass. He's half-tempted to summon the bartender for another, but at this point, he's also thinking it may not be the best idea. "You can't do it halfway – you have to go all in, no matter what. And no matter how hard you try to ignore it, it's always hanging over your head from the very moment that you first go under – if you slip up once, just once, that could be the last move you ever make."

He swallows hard, silently cursing that damn lump in his throat, the one that makes itself very known every time Traynor crosses his mind. "The tiniest slip that _you_ make could be the very last move _your partner_ makes." He affords her a quick glance, doesn't hold her eyes for long, but it's plenty enough for Kensi to witness the shadow in his eyes. "Is that something you could live with?"

"It's no different than anything I've already done," she points out quietly. "I've been in plenty of situations where one wrong move from me might've had Callen or Sam dead."

"And I bet you would have been able to drop character just as quickly in order to help them," Deeks replies, shaking his head slightly. "Again, think back to being Fern. In the club, I'm pretty sure Callen told you under no circumstances to break your cover. And…"

He trails off, but the pointed look he directs at her says everything. "I had to," she defends. "If I hadn't, Aubrey would've been killed."

Before she even finishes, Deeks is again shaking his head. "Nuh-uh. Doesn't work that way with deep cover. And _that's_ why not just anyone can do it. Sometimes, keeping cover means abandoning your own morals. Sometimes it means standing by and watching while something terrible happens, something you _know_ you could easily stop."

He doesn't add the darker thought that goes along with that, but he knows Kensi's not stupid. The look that flashes through her eyes tells him that the same thought hits her just about the time that it passes through his own mind. _Sometimes your cover requires you to even take part in that. _"Bottom line…_you can't break cover._ No matter what, you have to hold onto it until you've got someone in your face calling you out for who you really are. And even then…you _have_ to deny. You can't crumble. You…have to go down with your ship, so to speak."

Yet another something she won't ever admit aloud, but she's listening raptly to him now. He's got her hanging on his every word, and she'd be lying if she tried to say there wasn't an amount of jealousy bubbling deep inside of her. The picture he's painted is horrifying, certainly, but at the same time, there's a certain thrill to it. And the more he says that not everyone can do it, the more she finds herself wanting desperately to prove that she _can_. "Were you ready to?" she asks quietly, and she doesn't have to clarify what she means.

Deeks closes his eyes, a tight, grim smile upon his lips. "Not a fair question. I…didn't really have anything left to lose," he says quietly. Up until this point, he's managed to keep his emotions _mostly_ in check, but it's now that the first real trace of vulnerability breaks the surface. "When I went into that warehouse, I had everything planned out in my head. I knew _exactly_ how it was all supposed to go down. I thought I'd thought of everything."

Reaching out, he picks up his empty glass and slowly turns it in his hands, desperate for any sort of distraction, however slight it might be. Anything to distract him from what, as far as he's concerned, can only be considered a failure. "It wasn't something I've never done before, you know? I went in ready to make a proposition - a damn good one, I thought. I was playing my role perfectly - I _was_ Dale John Sully. I am - I'm _good_ at this." Stopping abruptly, Deeks clenches his teeth at the burst of indignant anger that surges through him - he's so incredibly tired of having to prove just how good he is at this job. He's tired of constantly having to prove himself, whether to the LAPD, to NCIS, to anyone. After all, he's spent his entire life trying to prove himself; will there ever be a point when it might finally be enough?

He shakes his head, feeling Kensi's eyes upon him though still unable to turn to face her. Part of him thinks he should stop, that he's already opened a closet filled with more skeletons than he's ready to share with her, but for some inexplicable reason he presses on. "It can all change on you in an instant. One second, I was in total control. Or I guess I just _thought_ I was in total control. Lazik flipped the tables on me so quickly that I didn't even have time to realize how much trouble I was in. But I know I'll never forget the..."

Deeks hesitates then, his voice dropping off into silence as he struggles to find just the right word. Fear works, certainly, but that's not a word he's quite ready to admit to in front of this woman, this woman he thinks probably doesn't even _know_ the word. In the end, he merely allows the sentence to go unfinished, carrying on though as if it were. "He looked me in the eye and called me by my name. Not Sully. _My_ name."

Another pause, this time coupled with an involuntary shudder. Setting the glass down once more, Deeks instead clenches his fist atop the bar, ignoring the sharp bolt of pain the motion sends through his arm. "That was when I knew it was done. That was it," he continues. "Jess was dead. As far as the LAPD was concerned, the op was over. They didn't know I'd gone back in - probably wouldn't have cared anyway. I was in there completely on my own and for the first time, I…I didn't see any way out." Swallowing hard, he closes his eyes, forced to watch the scenes play against the back of his eyelids as vividly as if he were still living them. "I was wrong. I'd been wrong for God only knows how long, and I was going to die for it."

Unsure what else to do, Kensi scoffs lightly, gently nudging his arm. "You really have that little faith in us?" she quips, an obvious attempt to draw him back from the dark abyss he's quickly sinking back into.

His lips quirk just briefly, but it's nothing if not forced. "The beginnings of this op were in progress before I ever stumbled across you guys," he explains simply. "I would have gone in with or without you guys at my back. And think about it – Hetty had _no_ reason to back me up. You guys had _no_ reason to back me up. This wasn't an NCIS operation." He pauses, raking a slightly shaky hand through his unruly blonde hair. "I sure didn't expect anything. I mean, if it had been the other way around - if it'd been me, under NCIS, going to the LAPD for help…" He pauses, shaking his head. "I would have gotten nothing."

"If it'd been you, working under NCIS, you wouldn't have _needed_ to go to the LAPD," Kensi says without missing a beat. She's not entirely sure what possesses her to do what she does next; doesn't really even realize what she's doing until it's too late. Frowning slightly, she reaches out to him, gently brushing her fingertips over the bruises coloring his knuckles. If he's surprised, bothered, or even notices at all, Deeks gives no indication. "You're as close to being one of us as it gets," she repeats, her dark eyes filled with concern as she watches him. "We don't…understand why Hetty does what she does sometimes, but she never does anything she's never completely thought through. Hell, she never does anything she's not completely certain will work out in the end," she adds, her lips quirking upward. "Hetty may have brought you in as a liaison officer, but that's not what she's going for. We don't need one."

He smirks slightly. "Especially not a lousy one like me, huh?" he quips.

Gently, she gives his shin a playful kick under the bar. "I wouldn't say you were _lousy…_"

"Except you pretty much did."

She shrugs; the grin tugging at the corner of his lips lets her know that no offense is taken. "To be fair, I never really got to see your liaising skills in action – I ended up having to do that, remember?" she points out, solely in an attempt to lighten the moment.

Deeks gives a quiet chuckle; it's the closest she's gotten him to a genuine laugh all night. "Not _exactly_ fair, though, 'cause you've got to admit LAPD would be more than happy to give _you_ anything you asked for."

Reaching up, Kensi coyly tucks her hair behind her ears. "You always give weird, slightly creepy compliments when you're drunk?" she teases, sharing a quick grin with him.

"It's called charm," he insists. "You're charmed."

Kensi laughs. "Hardly. Though I suppose I'll take the compliment for what it is," she says with a smirk.

He snickers again, and for the moment Kensi finds herself simply enjoying the sound. This is a little more like the Deeks she's used to; she surprises herself when the thought that follows is that this is a little more like the Deeks she _enjoys_ having around.

She doesn't have a chance to linger on the implications of that though; the short silence between them is suddenly infiltrated by the ringing bells upon the door, and a quick glance around the otherwise empty bar shows that other than the two of them, the last patron has left for the night. It's only then that Kensi realizes just how late it has become. "Deeks," she begins, the playfulness gone from her voice once more, "so I, uh, I don't know if you have anywhere to go tonight, but I have a couch. It's…it's not the greatest, and I'll probably have to move a lot of stuff off of it, but it's decent for a good night's rest. You…you're welcome to it."

He toys for a moment with the idea of pointing out that that proves just how charmed she is – charmed enough to chat with him in a bar for a couple hours and then want to take him home. Any other night, he might say exactly that. Tonight, though, he simply lets himself be quietly amused by the thought for a moment before dismissing it. "I do have my own place…"

Kensi shrugs. "Were you really planning on going home tonight? Really?" She leans toward him then, waiting for those ocean blue eyes – how has she never realized just how _blue_ they really are before? – to meet hers before she continues, her voice lower. "I'm not going to let you stay here and drink yourself into oblivion," she says, her seriousness and concern for him clear in every word.

He shrugs it off. "Few glasses. Hardly oblivion."

"Seriously, Deeks." In her mind, she tells herself that it's the same as wanting to offer her couch to Callen – she wonders, briefly, if Sam would be so adamantly against this as well. Truly, she's as tough as any of them, but at the end of the day, that doesn't mean she doesn't care about her teammates. And while the lines may still be blurred on whether or not Deeks really _is _actually part of their team (other than Hetty simply saying it's so), she can't just turn her back on him. Not tonight. "You can't say you can't use the rest."

"Pretty quick to open your home to me, considering that the last person whose place I crashed at ended up dead," he replies dryly. Almost numbly, at this point.

It's all she can do not to roll her eyes at his dramatic comment. "I'm not worried. And, even if I was…" she pauses, offering a bit of a grin. "I'm a better shot than anyone. You've seen that firsthand by now."

There's that confidence again, and Deeks can't hold back the tiniest smile. "I guess _I_ should be the one afraid then, huh?"

"You should," she agrees teasingly. For a moment, she's quiet, simply watching him before she speaks again, her tone once again serious. "Look, I'll be the first to admit that I don't have any idea what you're feeling tonight – it wouldn't be fair to say that I did. But…I've had – I've had similar moments. I know what pain is like. I know what fury and…despair are like. I – I just don't want you to go out there and do something stupid, Deeks. Something you might end up regretting."

Deeks is silent for so long that Kensi wonders if he even heard her at all. She's almost ready to reach out to him again when he sighs heavily and slowly pulls himself from the barstool, wincing in pain as he steadies himself on his feet. "I appreciate the offer, but I'll be fine," he says quietly, nodding to the bartender as he tucks a few bills beneath his empty glass.

"Deeks…"

She does reach out to him then, just barely touching her fingertips to his elbow. He meets her gaze, and the depth of her concern must be more than obvious in her eyes because he forces a smile, ignoring the rush of agony that simply pulling himself to his feet had caused. Doesn't really know what makes him do it, but he reaches out and brushes his own fingers along her shoulder, returning her gesture. For a simple gesture between two people who hardly know each other, after the depth of the conversation they've shared tonight, it's oddly intimate, and not even Kensi can fight back the shiver that slowly travels the length of her spine.

It's gone as quickly as it had come, though, so quickly that Kensi wonders if maybe she merely imagined it. The slight smile at his lips remains, and as he begins to walk away from her he repeats the same playful words he'd said to her all those months ago. "Don't worry, Fern. I'll be back."

Kensi bites her lip, watching him until he's at the door. For the second time, she's nearly overcome with the urge to follow him, but this time, she lets him go. "I'm holding you to that, this time," she calls out after him. "Or else we'll come find you again."

He stops for a moment, looking back with a bit of a smirk on his lips. In lieu of a verbal answer, he instead offers her a playful wink, a silent goodnight.

And with that, she lets him disappear into the night.


End file.
